The Book of Forbidden Wisdom
Page 7
And then he punched me.
I wanted to crawl away. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that Silky was trying to get to me, but the man who had her continued to hold her by her thick gold hair. Then she flung an elbow back and caught her assailant in the ribs; he released her for a moment, and the crossbow, which had fallen to the ground, was instantly in her hand.
“It’s all right now,” she said to me softly, even as her attacker was reaching out for her. “I’ve got it.”
She breathed out evenly and took the shot. The bolt hit the fair man holding me; it entered the back of his neck and burst through his throat. The tip of it grazed my cheek, and his blood spattered my face.
Silky turned to the other man, who, seeing his comrade go down, had hesitated. She was strong with a crossbow, and in a moment she had fit another bolt into the slot, but, with a great cry, the man ran away through the thickest part of the vegetation.
My assailant lay dead on top of me. Silky came and helped me push him away. She was distressed.
“There’s blood all over you,” she said.
I wiped my face with the hem of my shirt. “Not mine,” I said shortly, out of breath.
“I never thought I’d kill a person, Angel.” She looked woeful for a moment, and then she looked at my cheek.
“My bolt scratched you,” she said. “I meant it to stop inside him.”
“A scratch is just a scratch,” I said. “You saved me.”
“Of course I saved you,” she said, and she burst into tears. I knew she must be feeling the beginnings of bloodguilt, and I wished I could figure out a way to help her. But one dealt with bloodguilt alone.
Trey was groggy, although what he said mostly made sense. We decided that the second man probably wasn’t going to come back.
Squab hadn’t gone far, and Silky walked over to him and took his reins. He nuzzled her with his big old shaggy head, and I thought of how I loved my little sister.
I walked over to Silky and hugged her, and she looked up at me in surprise.
Then Trey came over to Silky and me, and despite my thoughts and fears—against all the rules I’d been taught, against the decorum, the rituals, the modesty that had been instilled in me—I put an arm around Trey and drew him into our embrace.
Trey let go first, and we stood apart, awkward, embarrassed. Then Trey turned away.
Eyeing him, Silky leaned up and whispered in my ear. “Are you going to marry him now?”
“Like a brother, Silky,” I murmured. “He’s like a brother to me.”
She seemed to consider that.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
While Trey adjusted Bran’s saddle, I walked over to the dead man, knelt down and started going through his pockets.
I looked up for a moment and saw both Silky and Trey staring at me.
“Angel,” said Silky. “You shouldn’t touch him. You’ll be unclean until sunset, and even then, we don’t know if we’ll find enough water for full immersion.”
She was right.
I didn’t stop.
“We let the landless prepare bodies for burial,” I said finally, doing my best not to feel the flesh beneath the clothes. “And they sometimes aren’t purified for days.”
“But they have no caste,” Silky said.
“We have enough water for me to wash my hands,” I said. “That’s the best I can do.”
Silky looked doubtful.
“She’s doing it for us,” said Trey softly to Silky.
The dead man was clearly landless and of low caste—perhaps a vagrant. His clothes were dirty and torn. In his food wallet he carried only a small heel of bread, but in his breeches pocket, I found a sheet of cheap paper, dirty from handling. In large, easy-to-read letters was spelled out REWARD. Below was written LADY ANGEL MONTROSE. And below that (if any vagrant could read so far): HARLOT.
I doubted the dead man could spell it all out, but he must have known someone was wanted. Perhaps someone else read the words to him. Because he had known my name.
And he had called me a harlot. I would have expected a cruder term; someone educated had spoken to him. Trey seemed to read my mind.
“Kalo and Leth are moving quickly,” said Trey. “They must have started distributing these before dawn. There’s no shortage of landless who would want a land reward—plus Leth’s gold.”
There was no sign of the horse that had been echoing us, and so we hurried, assuming it belonged to one of the men, and knowing that when it got back to its stall, someone might sound the alarm. Before leaving, we cleaned the site and buried my attacker in a shallow grave.
“It’s too bad he didn’t have money,” said Trey. “I brought what I had, but we’ll need more eventually.”
“I have some,” I said.
“We’re landowners,” said Silky. “We don’t need money.”
“All that was yesterday,” I said, and I wondered how long it would be before she understood that the Lady Silky of the House of Montrose was gone forever.
I saw The Book again. My mother looked into my eyes, put her hand over her heart, bowed her head and was gone. I had been given permission.
I was careful what I said next.
“If we were to return to Arcadia with The Book of Forbidden Wisdom,” I said, “they’d take us back.”
“Yes,” said Trey. “The Book would open all doors. So what?”
“So north to Shibbeth.”
Trey stopped Bran, and I stopped too.
“Your mother told you something before she died,” said Trey.
I had kept the secret a long time. It was hard to speak, even to Trey.
“Yes,” I said.
“You’ve been lying since you were a child.”
“Yes.”
“You could have told me,” said Trey.
“You could have told me,” said Silky.
“No—I couldn’t have. It wasn’t my secret to tell.”
“So you’ve known where it is the whole time?” Trey asked.
“No. And I still don’t know, exactly.”
“What does that mean?” he said.
“It means Mother will guide the three of us. A stage at a time.”
“Mother’s dead,” said Silky.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said.
“All right,” said Trey after a long moment. “One thing at a time. I can do that.”
“Well I can’t,” said Silky.
“You’ll have to, Lady Silky,” said Trey. “We’re going to have to trust Angel.” He turned to me. “I suppose this means the Spiral City is real?”
“It’s real.”
I couldn’t read his expression precisely, but I knew there was no land greed in his face, no desire to wield The Book. He was no Kalo. No Leth. But I had always known that. He just wanted me safe—and Silky too, of course. That made me ride a bit lighter in my saddle.
We continued. After a while, Trey looked thoughtful. “I doubt Leth will follow us all the way into Shibbeth. He has no land papers.”
“Yes,” I said. “But he’s very annoyed.”
“I don’t understand,” said Silky. “He might be logical enough to stop—given he has no papers—but we’re going to ride right in. With no papers at all.”
“You’re right,” I said. “We are.”
We set up camp at dusk, and we all felt awkward about it. There was no purple perfumed Women’s Tent. No feather camp divans, soft as beds. No tent for a chaperone to stay between the Women’s Tent and the place where the men slept. There were, in fact, no tents at all. I felt we were totally unprepared for a night spent together, much less a night spent together in the wild. Trey had brought bedding and a rain sheet, but the ground was hard, and even in late summer the deep night air carried a bite.
Then I saw Trey watching me. He turned away before I could speak.
Later, as Silky stoked the fire, he took me aside.
“I’ll just speak frankly,” he said. “I’ll be sleeping outside the perimeter of the camp. Your modesty is safe.” He thought for a moment. “So is Silky’s,” he added.
“I know,” I said. “Like a brother. Remember?”
“All right, Angel,” he said. “But no need to do all that stretching around me, all right? I’m not actually your brother.”
And with that, he went to set up his sleeping area.
Silky and I put our blankets by the fire, but then she looked at me, hesitant.
“Remember the perfumed traveling tents?” Silky asked wistfully as we set out our bedding by the fire.
“I do,” I said. “They were always too hot. And they made one smell of cheap incense.” I was making the best of it. I missed those perfumed traveling tents terribly.
“Expensive incense,” said Silky.
“All right,” I said. “Now get ready for bed.”
“I can’t undress,” she said.
“Trey’s not going to look,” I said. “Anyway, he saw you in your nightgown last night.”
“That was different,” said Silky. “It was a rescue. I didn’t even notice—“
“Notice what?”
She leaned toward me conspiratorially. “He’s turned into a man.”
I tried to ignore her comment. Then I glanced at the perimeter where Trey was standing and looking into the darkness.
“I hope he won’t be cold,” I said.
“He’s awfully far from the fire.”
On a normal journey that required an overnight stop, we would have been able to pretend that Trey was sleeping somewhere else entirely, nowhere as indelicate as within thirty yards. But we didn’t have the tents. Or the chaperones. Or the servants. Or the messengers to go between. All those ceremonies and chaperones hadn’t given us much practice at being around men. We just didn’t know how to do it—we barely knew how to converse outside of the regulation conversations. They might as well have bound our feet, as I heard they used to do in Shibbeth.
“Let me do your hair,” I said to Silky. It was a ritual that soothed us both, and she eagerly sat with her back to me. She had put her hair up after the attack, and when I undid the pins, it cascaded down her back. I brushed it out as carefully as I could and then helped her with her nightgown. She got into her bedding quiet as a pet lamb.
“Thank you, Angel,” she said.
“Go to sleep.” I was soon in my bed, and the warmth of the fire made me sleepy.
“Angel?”
“Hmmm?”
“I was thinking,” said Silky. “Wouldn’t it be safer if Trey were closer to us? If we’re going to break rules, that is.”
“Maybe,” I said.
“Will you ask him?”
“We’d be breaking rules that are quite serious, Silky.”
“I’m sure he won’t try to come too close.”
I hesitated, because how close was too close? Still, I was sure my morals weren’t eroding—much less the careful walls around my heart. And who would know?
I climbed out of bed and put my cloak over my nightclothes. I made ready to approach Trey.
He had been arranging his bedding as I approached, and he looked at me, surprised.
“Is everything all right?” he asked quickly.
“Yes,” I said. “Silky thinks you should sleep closer to the fire.”
“That’s—that’s kind.”
“It was Silky’s idea. She says you’re harmless.”
It would be hard to describe the expression on his face.
“I’ll appreciate the warmth. But Angel?”
“Yes?”
“Just to be clear. I’m not sure I like being called harmless.”
“But you are,” I said. “You would never hurt me or Silky.”
Trey, like the freeman who saw me behind the island, said nothing, but bowed his head and put his hand over his heart. I walked back to the fire.
The breeze was brisk, and as I made my way back to Silky, I felt cold. Visiting Trey at night, undressed, with only a coat as cover, had suddenly felt like visiting the rim of the moon.
Finally Trey, now closer to the fire, slept. Silky slept too. The fire burned low. A few late-summer Light Creatures blinked in the air; a night bird began her song. Soon the moon set, and I realized I had never seen so many stars. They were like jewels against the soft darkness.
I nudged Silky awake to share the night.
But I let Trey sleep.
Perhaps I was a little bit afraid of him—because of marriage, because of all it entailed.
Because I knew, of course, that if we ever made our way back, I was going to have to marry Trey. No matter what happened—or rather, didn’t happen—between us, Trey and I were now bound forever. I was tainted by my failed marriage to Leth, and now I was stained by my closeness to Trey. I would have to marry, and I would have to marry him. Or be an outcast.
That’s where all the convoluted, twisted paths led. Out of some labyrinths, there was no safe passage.
Chapter Seven
The River Wys in Flood
Breakfast was an awkward affair. I couldn’t, of course, eat off any utensil Trey had put in his mouth, and we weren’t supposed to share dishes, either, although since all we had was a spoon and a porridge pot, that delicate bit of behavior had to fall by the wayside. I could hardly fault Trey for not bringing enough spoons and forks.
“Needs be,” I said, serving myself with the spoon Trey had been using.
“But, Angel,” said Silky. “What about the protocols? It seems we’re forgetting about all of them.”
I handed the spoon back to Trey. Before Silky spoke I had been wondering if, perhaps, I had natural immoral tendencies. Now I was simply annoyed.
“Do you really think,” I said, “that we’re compromised by eating from the same spoon as Trey?”
“It’s unusual.”
“Do I have a say?” asked Trey.
“All right,” I said.
“It’s a pleasure to share with you.”
I gasped and then laughed. Silky just gasped.
“This is so strange,” she said. “And it’s so wrong, in so many ways.”
“Come on, Silky,” I said, bolder now. “Needs be.”
“Even married people don’t share the same spoon,” she said.
I’d almost been a married person, and I had been told by my chaperone the night before the wedding that marriage, although no dishes were ever to be used in common, consisted of another kind of sharing. She hadn’t been very specific, but some of the whispers among the girls over the years had been pretty raw. And everyone knew that after marriage, on the very first night, the rules that we had been raised on changed.
If the wedding to Leth had been completed, after the Arbitrator had sealed us in the Book of Marriage and the Book of Land, after the feast and the cake and the dancing, after all excuses to avoid it were over, would come the shaking of the sheets, the final ceremony. The chaperones would give me to the young maids, who would dress me in my nightclothes. Then, after rose petals and lavender sprigs had been sprinkled on the bed, they would all withdraw. There I would wait for Leth. He would get into bed with me. He would touch me. Presumably he would know more of the rules governing this than I did.
Sharing a spoon with Trey bore no comparison.
Leth would have touched me, and I would have diminished into the House of Nesson.
We finished breakfast hurriedly. By th
e time we were actually packed up and ready to ride, we had broken so many rules that I had stopped counting.
Silky, on the other hand, was keeping a running tally.
“That’s twenty-four,” she said as Trey gave me a leg up on Jasmine.
“Someone always helps us get on our horses, Silky,” I said.
“Not an eligible man from a Great House—who, by the way, accidentally touched your leg, which is twenty-five.”
“I’m flattered by how dangerous I seem to be,” said Trey. “Kalo has nothing on me.”
“I think you’re enjoying this,” I said.
“I certainly am,” said Silky. “Now help me up, please, Trey. And that’ll be twenty-six.”
“Happy to oblige,” said Trey, who, instead of delicately holding his hands so Silky could step up onto Squab’s back, picked Silky up and tossed her onto Squab as if she’d been a sack of feathers.
“Hey!”
“You’re welcome, Lady Silky,” said Trey. He looked over at me with a smile. “I held back with you, Angel,” he said. “A few too many rules would have gone by the way. Given your advanced age.”
“I’m getting used to fewer rules,” I said.
“Angel,” said Trey. “You love rules. They keep you safe from life.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t understand what he meant.
We rode at a jog until the sun was beating down. There was no sign of pursuit, and as we rode, farms were becoming farther apart—Leth and Kalo could hand out all the Reward sheets they wanted, but word would be unlikely to reach this far.
It couldn’t be long to the Great North Way now. It seemed as if we were being channeled toward the north by chance and by circumstance. All the better.
Perhaps, I thought, we will find The Book quickly and go home in triumph.
I was suddenly happy.
After all, I was with Silky and Trey, my two most favorite people in the world. I pulled some food from the saddlebag, and I started eating a dried biscuit, thereby breaking two more rules by Silky’s count (don’t eat with your fingers; only eat when seated at a table). We passed close by a small tree, and I broke off a twig and started tickling Jasmine’s ears. Just because.